Chapter Text
The afternoon was crisp with fate.
Mollymauk Tealeaf was aware of this, if only on a subconscious level. It was like a really good card reading. Not the ones he made up, aided by his intuition and a flare for the dramatic, but the rare ones that had a little destiny in them. It was as though a fragment of possibility was hovering in the long shadows cast by the afternoon sun, but the feeling was nebulous, malleable. He couldn’t put his finger on it. So he carried on perusing the market stalls, picking up bundles of herbs to sniff, perhaps with a wink for the shopkeeper if they looked at all receptive. One of them reddened and offered him an apple, which he took with a flash of fang and a wink. He shinned it on his coat and took a bite.
Somewhere behind him, Beau was complaining. "All that work for a lousy fifty gold.”
Ordinarily, he might have considered it whining; however, couched in Beau’s grouchy tone was actual discomfort. They’d been hired to clear an abandoned tunnel at the edge of town, and a trapped door had gone off right in her face. She lost both eyebrows (and a layer of her arms and belly), and, magicked or not, new skin had a way of tingling with remembered pain.
“That's fifty gold we didn't have this morning," Fjord reasoned. "Besides, the job wasn’t even that hard. If you hadn’t been caught in that blast, then –”
"Fjord, I swear," Beau said. "I'm gonna punch you in your pretty boy face if you say another word. It’s not like I’m a rogue, you know."
Fjord's expression did some acrobatics, remorse mixed in liberally. There was no reason for him to feel that way. They were all consenting adults, and it wasn’t like Fjord had twisted anyone's arm. But, to be fair, Beau had looked genuinely dreadful. They’d found her lying in a pile of splinters, oozing blood and scraped raw to the ribs. It had been enough to make anyone feel at least a smidge bad for her.
Jester pressed close. "If it still hurts, I could try to heal you again, Beau.”
Beau put a palm on Jester's forehead and shoved her away. "No thanks. What I really need is some action. This place is almost as dull as my old mentor, Xenoth. And let me tell you, nothing is more boring than him."
Yasha, who was examining a bundle of flowers displayed in a woven basket, remarked, "I don’t think it’s that bad. Sometimes a slower pace is nice.”
Beau made a noncommittal sound. Everyone knew she had a soft spot for their resident barbarian, and if there was one person she might hesitate to outright contradict, it was Yasha. “Sure, sure, but you have to admit, it’s got a certain same-y quality to it. I mean, have you seen so much as a halfling around here? This close to Felderwin? It’s freaking me out.”
She had a point. Their group would be an unusually diverse one anywhere in the empire, but it was still strange to look around and see only humans. "It’s plenty pleasant," Molly temporized, glancing around the cheerful market. "Though I could do without the crownsguard." There were two in view, and they’d been eyeing him since the moment he strolled into view. Paranoia or prejudice?
“They are keeping an awful close watch,” Fjord said. “Better we keep to ourselves and head out early tomorrow morning. One more night of clean beds and hot meals, and then we hit the road. How about it, guys?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Molly answered and sauntered off into the crowd. If they were going to hit the road, he wanted enjoy town life while he had the chance.
He’d discarded the apple core in a trash barrel and was peeling off toward an enticing strand of music when he heard the ugly laughter. It was followed by a sharp noise, like a hammer striking wood. It made the hair on the back of Mollymauk’s neck stand up, and he changed direction to investigate.
He found a group of adolescents at the edge of a courtyard, throwing rocks. The sun was hot and bright after the coolness of the market awnings, and at first, their target was indistinct. Then his eyes adjusted, and he saw what appeared to be a pair of planks set in a wooden framework. But no, it wasn’t just planks. It was a pillory, and it was occupied. He caught a glimpse of auburn hair and a lolling head which sagged against the boards holding it in place. As Molly watched, another stone struck sharply by the captive’s ear.
“You couldn’t hit an ox yoked to a cart, Marxis," one of the children teased as he wound up for another shot.
An snarl wrenched itself from Molly’s throat. "Hey, you little brutes, you get away from there right now, you hear me?"
That got their attention, and they looked up to find an angry tiefling striding toward them. Most took off right away, but a few refused to give ground. "We're not doing anything wrong. The magistrate put him there as punishment.”
“That doesn't give you the right to harass a helpless man. You might as well tie a tin can to a cat’s tail.” The adolescents exchanged guilty glances at the mention of the metaphorical cat, and Mollymauk’s tolerance sunk even further. “Enough. Get lost before I forget my manners.”
“Who’s gonna make us, you?”
The kid glanced at the far side of the courtyard, where a crownsguard was loitering at his post. If the soldier had taken any notice of their minor confrontation, he didn’t seem to care. However, if Molly decided to do more than exchange terse words with these kids, who knew if that neutrality would shift? Molly’s teeth came out in a feral sort of grin. If this brat though a little potential trouble would stop him from kicking their asses...
Fortunately, he didn't have to take the risk. "How about I make you, you little shits,” said a familiar voice, and Beau, bless her violent heart, didn't even wait for them to register her presence before she grabbed one kid by the ear and cuffed another so hard he burst into ignominious tears. It was too much. They ran, while Beau stung them in the backside with the same stones they’d been tossing moments earlier.
Afterward, she brushed off her hands. "Ah, justice."
"Spoken like a true sociopath,” Molly said.
She snorted. "Don't even start. If I hadn’t shown up, you’dve spanked them yourself.”
It was true, but dealing out a well-deserved reproach to a bunch of kids wasn’t at the top of Molly’s mind at the moment. Levity draining from him, he turned on his heel and headed for the pillory.
Beau trailed after him. “Molly...”
He ignored her. His attention was fixed on the captive human. From a distance, he’d looked bad. Up close, it was worse. His hair was positively caked with egg yolk, and when Molly drew up his face he found it streaked with a mixture of manure and blood, the later mostly clotted but still oozing from a cut beneath his hairline.
“Someone’s beat him to hell,” Beau said, and she was right. The planks were clamped over his neck and wrists, forcing him into a bent position. That, along with the fact that his upper body had been striped, left evidence of a brutal lashing on clear display. Molly had seen that kind of punishment before, but this was a damn farming village, for crying out loud. What could this guy possibly have done to warrant such a punishment?
Beau spoke through her teeth. “I’m going to get Jester.”
Mollymauk barely heard her. His attention was on the prisoner. Why he was so transfixed, he didn't know. I mean, sure, the guy was in a pathetic state, enough to inspire pity in anybody with half a heart, but there was something else about him, something Molly couldn't put a name to...
“Hey,” he heard himself say. He gave the man a pat on the cheek to rouse him. “Hey.”
The prisoner stirred. His throat worked, lips parting, and Mollymauk became aware of how chapped they were. There was a bucket with a dipper at the foot of the pillory, but it stood empty, without a drop of water. Nearby, Molly spotted a rain barrel.
“Wait a moment,” he murmured and scooped up the bucket handle. A moment later he was able to offer a brimming ladle, and that was when the captive showed the first real signs of life, reviving enough to take the water with weak but grateful sips. “There,” Molly encouraged while he drank. “Not too quick or you'll get sick, and neither of us wants that.”
“More,” the man rasped, cracked and whisper thin, but Molly shook his head.
He wanted to check those pupils if he could. “Can you look at me a moment?”
The man haltingly lifted his head, and for a single moment, something in Molly resonated with the spark that flickered in this stranger’s face, and he was certain they weren’t strangers at all. Then, as suddenly, it was just him and the most tired, pained blue eyes he’d ever seen, gazing back at him without recognition.
Molly worked up the will to smile. “Hello, friend. You look like you’ve had a hard time of it. But don't worry. Mollymauk Tealeaf is here, and I'll do what I can to help.”
Confusion and weakness were making it difficult for the man to answer, but he tried. “M-mol –”
“Molly!” It was Jester. She bounded onto the platform. “Beau said you found someone who needs my super amazing healing powers.”
“See for yourself.”
“Oh,” she said in immediate commiseration. She brushed the man’s bangs back. “Oh, Molly. He looks terrible.”
“I think that’s by design,” said Fjord. He was standing at the base of the pillory, shifting uneasily. It brought to mind just where they were. The pillory stood outside the magistrate’s office and town jail. Its imposing facade was studded with iron and hard-lined with brick in uncompromising edges. There was a wall around the courtyard as well, though apparently it remained open during daylight hours. All the better for public displays of humiliation.
It made Molly angry. There were versions of pillories and stocks all over the Empire, but most criminals served for an hour, perhaps two, with general discomfort and the shame of being seen by friends and neighbors acting as the teeth of the punishment. This went far beyond that.
Yasha stepped closer. “Can you get a sense of his condition, Jester?”
Her eyelashes fluttered as she reached out with her magic. “It's pretty bad, guys.” She took a closer look the pillory. The wooden planks holding him in place had bruised the skin, especially his wrists. And his hands...
“Oh,” Jester gasped.
They were pulverized. Angrily purple in a way that made Molly fear he was looking at dead meat instead of living human flesh. "Looks crushed,” Beau said grimly. “I've seen that done. Usually ‘cause –”
“He's a mage,” said a crownsguard, who had sauntered over to get a better vantage. “Not much they can do without their hands. Or tongue. But Castus just broke this one’s jaw. Didn't want him to choke before he finished his sentence. Mouth wounds bleed like a stuck pig, you know.”
The callousness got Molly’s back up, and he wasn't the only one. Fjord had stiffened, and even Jester was staring, silent and contemptuous. “And what exactly was his crime?” Fjord asked. How he managed to keep his voice even, Molly would never know, but Fjord had a knack for hiding his emotions behind something more socially acceptable. It was not a skill Molly himself possessed.
“Conspiracy to commit theft.”
“Theft?” Mollymauk looked again at the furrows on the man’s back. “What the hell did he steal, a lord’s fortune?”
“That amount of lashing does seem extreme,” Fjord said. “There must be more than a dozen.”
“Two dozen,” the guard said. “Twelve for him and twelve for his accomplice. It got away because of him.”
Heat was rising in Molly, itching in his blood. “Two dozen lashes, and you left him out here in the sun. How long has he been like this?”
“Two days, and he'll stay until his time’s done. If he doesn't make it, the streets will be that much cleaner with one less dirty crook, now won't they?”
“You –” Infernal hissed through Molly’s teeth, but Beau, of all people, whacked him in the shin with her staff.
“We want to talk to the magistrate.”
The guard looked over the group, with its strange assortment of weapons and apparel. They looked anything but affluent, but Beau had a way of looking damned official when she wanted to, and right now her posture was ramrod straight. It had an effect. The guard jerked his head toward the building. “Be my guest, if you’re that much of a fool. It’s a waste of time, if you ask me.”
“We'll see about that,” Beau said. She glanced at Fjord, communicating wordlessly in some way that had him nodding.
“Let's go, Jester,” he said.
She fretted, indicating the stricken prisoner. “But, shouldn't I stay with him?”
“I'll keep an eye out,” Molly said. “Make sure no more brats have a go at him with rocks.”
“No one will come near him with rocks,” Yasha agreed, positioning herself at the edge of the courtyard. Just her presence, formidable as she was, would keep most at bay.
“Go,” Molly said, wrestling his purse off his belt and handing it to Jester. “Nobody deserves this.”
The prisoner was breathing shallowly, his panting carrying an undercurrent of pain. Molly tried to support his head, knowing how much of a strain it must be to hold this position so long. Unmindful, his hand began to rub the man’s neck, trying to impart some small comfort.
The guard caught his eye and jeered. “Don’t mind me. Keep on stroking all you want. A man on public display has no rights at all in this town.”
Molly’s stomach turned over. It was bad enough these people had whipped a man and locked him a pillory without water or protection from hecklers, but this new implication was more sickening still. “I’ll be damned if I leave you here,” he whispered to the prisoner. “Not with these bastards.”
Shadows began to stretch across the cobblestone, the afternoon putting on her evening colors. It was near sunset before the others returned. Fjord emerged first. Behind him, Jester had her hands clinched in uncharacteristic fists. Only Beau remained stoic. An officer walked alongside, looking bored, a ring of keys hanging from her fingers. Success then, if not a clean one. Molly looked to Fjord for details, but the man shook his head. Later.
The officer worked the padlock. “Might want to grab him,” she said. “He’ll probably drop once I loose the framework.”
Molly positioned himself on one side, and Beau jumped up to take the other. They seized his armpits as the guard jerked a plank up to form a narrow wedge, though which she shoved the prisoner’s head. “Watch it!” Fjord snapped when the captive’s chin clipped the wood.
The officer only shrugged. “All yours,” she said. “Though I don't know why you want him.”
As the former prisoner sagged, wobbling on the edges of bare feet, Beau asked, “Where’s his stuff?”
“Excuse me?”
“Woman, his stuff. Don't expect me to believe he walked into this place without even shoes on his feet or a shirt on his back.”
“Fine, fine. Come on, then.”
While Fjord handled that, Jester took the man’s face between her hands. “Let me do a little work. Just a bit, to hold him over.” There was a faint glow, and his breathing became noticeably easier. His fingers looked less distorted, too, with a flush of healthy pink to them. It relieved Molly. Maybe they weren't past mending after all? Jester exhaled, then smiled. “There. That’s better, right?”
Her patient didn’t respond. If he was conscious, it was only by measures. Molly and Beau were the only thing keeping him up. Fjord appeared, carrying a bundle of fabric, a pair of boots, and – weirdly enough – two leather-bound books. “Let's get out of here,” he said, and Molly couldn't have agreed more. They put the courtyard and the hateful pillory behind them.
Their first priority was to get off the street, where curious and judgmental eyes might be watching. Amidst barrels, crates, and refuse bins they paused. “What are we doing? Are we bringing him back to the inn?”
Fjord shifted. “That doesn't seem wise, taking a stranger to our rooms.”
“We were all strangers once, and not too long ago either,” Molly said. “Besides, what's the alternative? Dump him here with a ‘good luck, pal,’ and a slap on the back? He'll die, Fjord, or crownsguard will come along, and he’ll be right back where he started. I won't be party to that.”
Beau crossed her arms. “Well, I sure as hell won’t leave him in an alley after what we went through to convince that scumbag magistrate to hand him over. Talk about theft.”
Yasha approached Molly. “Do you need me to take him?”
He smiled. “No, dear. I've got him, but thank you for asking.”
“Seriously, what are we doing?” Jester demanded.
“He's ours,” Beau said. “We paid for him, and we’re taking him with us.”
A guttural shriek tore through the ally. It was all the warning they got before a bundle of rags launched itself at Beau and beset upon her with a dagger that she didn’t quite dodge. Beau grunted, grappling over the weapon with her attacker, who was half her size but strong.
Molly grabbed the creature, trying to pry it loose. Beau had managed to seize the pressure points in its wrist, and it howled as it was forced to drop both Beau and the dagger. Which left it in Molly’s arms. It flailed, screaming, and chomped down on his arm. With a bark of pain, he threw the beast away from him with such strength it hit the wall and collapsed into a pile of crates.
He clutched his arm, which was bleeding, even as Yasha came alongside him with sword drawn. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, fine,” he hissed. “Little beast just got its teeth in me.”
“Oh, oh!” Jester was saying. “Look!”
Their attacker had crawled out of the debris and was crouching on all fours, growling like an animal. But animal it was not, at least not in the traditional sense. At first, all Molly had was a hectic impression of a figure in a tattered tunic with large green ears and huge golden eyes that glowed in the dim alleyway like a cat. And teeth, he thought, as he rubbed his arm. Quite a lot of jagged-looking teeth. A goblin. Though it was a weirdly dissident thing to find one here, in the middle of town.
Fjord called on his falchion, but before he could do more, the man from the pillory staggered forward on hands and knees. “Nott!”
“Caleb!” shrieked the goblin, launching herself through their arms and legs and Fjord’s sword, and throwing herself bodily at the wounded man.
If she had intended to hurt him, she would have succeeded. None of them were close enough or fast enough to stop her. However, instead of attacking, the goblin wrapped her arms around his neck and started sobbing. His trembling arms came up to embrace her.
“Oh, Caleb,” the goblin wailed. “I’ve been watching all day, but I couldn’t do anything, not even when those beastly children wouldn’t leave you alone, and then these weirdos took you, and I didn’t know what to do, and they – they –”
“Stop, stop,” Molly spoke over the near-hysterical babbling. “It’s clear enough you two know each other, and that’s all well and good, but we deserve an explanation. So,” he spoke to the goblin. “Who are you, and, for that matter, who is he?”
The goblin turned to him, tears dribbling down her cheeks. It had moistened the bandages she wore, presumably in an attempt to hide her identity, and while he watched, a snot bubble filled and burst. She sniffled loudly, arms clasped around the mysterious prisoner.
Jester brought her hands together. “Isn’t she just the cutest.”
‘Cute’ might not be the right word, but sure, the reunion had certain poignancy to it. Especially if this goblin was the ‘accomplice’ the guardsmen had mentioned, and Molly was willing to bet she was. He waited, along with the others, for an answer. It took patience, as now that her initial attack was over, she seemed more scared of them than anything.
“Please let us go,” she stammered. “We won’t do anything bad. We’ll disappear, and you’ll never see us again.”
“Now wait a minute,” Molly said. “You can’t just scamper off. For one thing, your friend here is hardly in any shape for running.”
If anything, Nott – Nott? – managed to shrink to an even smaller size. “I’ll take care of him.”
Under other circumstances, it would have been absurd – a goblin, swearing to take care of a human. Yet something about her convinced him. “I’m not doubting you,” Molly said. “Because I’m sure you would do your best, but your friend –”
“Caleb,” she told him.
“Caleb,” Molly agreed, “needs a healer.”
Jester pipped up. “And this is your lucky day, because it just so happens I’m the best healer in the Marrow Valley.”
“You figure that’s true?” Beau whispered, and Fjord elbowed her in her side. “Hey! I’ve been stabbed. Can’t I get any damn sympathy?”
Nott, for her part, was fixated on Jester. Caleb’s brief flirtation with consciousness had faded. He remained in her loose embrace, but his forehead had sunken onto her shoulder. She petted his hair, looking torn. “You’re a healer?”
“Yes,” Jester said.
“And you would – you would heal him?”
“Of course!”
“And how – what would you want us to do for it?” The way she spoke, it was like she was asking which finger would be lopped off. It was clear that, at best, she viewed them as dangerous allies with an ulterior motive.
“My dear,” Molly said. “I, for one, didn’t pull that man off a pillory to extort anyone.”
She grew angry. “You’re lying. I heard you. You said he was yours. Well, he’s not. He’s mine, and I won’t let you hurt him. I’ll kill you and bite off your faces before I let you do that.”
She sounded feral enough to do it, but it was hard to take her seriously, wrapped as she was around an unconscious human, looking for all the world like a very small, very angry child. Molly didn’t believe in feeling sorry for people, but it was hard not to be moved to pity in such a case.
Fjord was the one who finally cleared his throat. “You misunderstand us. We aren’t the kind to buy and sell people. That talk you heard was just the five of us being facetious about a weird situation. We did pay for his release, but not because we intended to indenture him. We saw a man being treated in a way that didn’t seem right, and we decided to do something about it.”
“Why?” Nott demanded.
“Because what was happening wasn’t justice,” Beau said. “I don’t care what he stole.”
“It was a bracelet,” Nott said, ears drooping. “And I’m the one who stole it, not him.”
It had been the obvious conclusion, but Molly sensed her admission was significant. “If it was you who stole the bracelet, how did he end up in the pillory?”
Nott fidgeted. “I get itchy fingers. When I’m drinking, it’s not so bad, but we’ve had a hard time in this town. They’re not very forgiving of grifters or beggars. Once my flask was empty, my fingers started itching, and when I saw that bracelet sitting in the street, I snatched it. I knew it was from one of the booths, and I knew someone might see, but I did it anyway. One of the crownsguard grabbed me. My mask fell off, then all the soldiers came running.”
Jester coaxed her, “Is that when Caleb stepped in?”
A fat tear traced the side of her nose. “He burned the guard who was holding me. I crawled into the crowd on my hands and knees, but he couldn’t get away.” Her lip trembled. “His poor hands.”
“That’s terrible, Nott,” Jester said. “It must have been very scary.”
“I thought they were going to kill him.”
“But they didn’t.”
Anger bubbled up again. “No, but they brought him to the magistrate, and then they put him in that cage thing for hours and hours. I tried to come up with a plan, but there were always people watching.”
“It would have been suicide to try anything,” Fjord reasoned.
Nott squeezed Caleb’s neck. Her voice was barely a whisper. “If he dies, I don’t care what happens to me.”
It was pretty heartbreaking, and Molly knew he wasn’t the only one affected. One look at Jester’s googly eyes and he knew where this was going. ‘In for a penny,’ he thought.
“Look,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but for tonight, why don’t you and Caleb come back with us to The Chuckling Pheasant? Jester will do a little magic, we’ll share a few rounds, and Caleb gets tucked into a nice, warm bed for the night.”
The offer, kindly meant, seemed to overwhelm Nott. “A…bed?”
“Yes, in the inn. You know. A place where there’s ale, passable food, and a basin of cold water to splash your face in?”
“It’s not a total dump, anyway,” Beau said. “No bedbugs. No fleas.”
Nott scratched un-subtly under her armpit. “Um.”
Molly rolled his eyes. “Forget the fleas. You’re still invited. So what do you say?”
She looked at each of them. A huge barbarian. An intimidating half-orc. An angry monk. A manically grinning blue tiefling. And Molly – a purple man with horns and a tail who had thrown her into a wall. She shrunk a bit. “Do you…promise not to hurt us?”
She hadn’t even asked for their names. Just, ‘please, don’t hurt us’. Molly couldn’t stand it, but a rending of cloth wouldn’t help. Instead, he swept his coat back and spread his arms in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture. “You have our word. Right, everyone?”
There were murmurs of assent. With a little wheedling, Nott allowed Yasha to help Caleb, and the group headed back to The Chuckling Pheasant with two strange additions in tow.
If Mollymauk were being honest, the tavern in Edenbridge was just like the rest of the town. It was serviceable: alcohol, food, privy, stable. It was just bland and joyless. Still, it was safe enough, and once they got Caleb installed in one of the rooms, Jester approached Nott, who had placed herself between them and the bed.
“You will have to let me closer if I’m going to heal him, Nott,” she coaxed.
Nott inched reluctantly aside, allowing her access to the bedside. Once there, she grimaced at the state of her patient. “Fjord, we’re going to need a tub and warm water.”
A shudder went through Nott, and she scrabbled for her belt, which no longer held the dagger. “No water.”
“Nott,” Jester reasoned. “He’s really dirty, and not just the normal kind of dirty. People threw things at him, and I can smell that some of it was really not nice. Besides, if I’m being totally, totally honest, both of you smell so bad it’s going to attract attention. So why don’t you have a little bath while we take care of your, ah –” she looked at Nott’s bandages. “– clothes. And then we’ll all have a good night’s sleep and talk more in the morning.”
The tension in Nott’s body was so severe she was shaking. What story lurked there, Molly didn’t know, but it was more than a general aversion to water. “Nott, my dear, we promised we wouldn’t hurt you. So what’s the problem?”
“I know what you do with people like us.” She made a gesture, like shoving kittens under water for culling. “Like this,” she said, and gagged, as though in remembrance.
Fjord caught on. “Nott, no one here is going to drown you. But Jester’s right.” He looked at Jester. “Maybe a basin and a rag?”
She sighed, as though greatly put upon. “Well, okay, but it’s not going to be nearly as good. Plus they’ll miss out on the nice smells and hot water.”
“Needs must,” Molly chirped. “Anything else?”
“Just help me sit him up,” Jester said, pulling out her holy symbol. “I need to see his back to be sure I don’t make any mistakes.
In the end, Nott had submitted to only the very briefest scrubbing, but she had given up her filthy clothing. Now she sat on the bed in one of Beau’s sleeveless shirts, which pooled around her knees like a tunic. She was holding Caleb’s hand while he slept. “Thank you,” she said.
Molly was leaning against the wall by the window. He was curious, but didn’t want to push by asking too many intrusive questions. Fortunately, Beau possessed none of his restraint. “How the hell did you two end up together?” Fjord coughed, but she ignored him. “Well! It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“Beau.”
“No, she’s right. It is weird,” Nott agreed, and her shoulders sloped downward.
“You don’t have to tell us anything,” Yasha told her. “You don’t owe us an explanation.”
Nott shook her head. “You got my Caleb out of that courtyard. I don’t have any way to repay you, but I can answer. Me and Caleb, we’ve been traveling together for a while. At first I thought he would leave because…well. But it’s been more than a year, and we’re a – a family. I know it shouldn’t be that way. He deserves better, but he needs me, and I need him, and –” Fresh tears fell.
Jester patted her back. “That’s lovely, Nott. We don’t always chose our family, you know? Sometimes the Traveler brings us really strange, really unexpected friends.”
“Like these idiots,” Beau threw in. “Lord knows this isn’t who I expected to be traveling with.”
Nott dared to look curious. “You’re all really…colorful,” she commented.
And Molly laughed, loud and long. Jester snickered, too, and even Yasha cracked a smile. “You could say that.”
Nott picked at a loose bit of thread at the edge of the blanket. “Does…does that mean you really don’t mind about me? What I look like?”
Jester picked up her hand, overlaying the green and blue. “No, Nott. We don’t mind. You and Caleb, you’re safe with us. Right, guys?”
Molly looked at the others, gauging their response. Beau was sold. In fact, Molly was willing to bet she would punch anybody who so much as frowned in their direction. Yasha, too, had a familiar gleam in her eye, one Molly knew from personal experience. Of the five of them, only Fjord looked noncommittal.
Molly himself was very clear on how he felt. “Sleep easy, Nott,” he told her. “You're among friends.”
That night, leaning against his pillow, neck craned so he could see the stars, Molly broached the subject that had been on his mind for the last few hours. “Fjord.”
The man shifted on his own bed. “Yeah?”
“You get the feeling we’re missing something? Like, maybe we were supposed to find those two a long time ago, but we just…didn’t?”
There was a long, telling silence. Then Fjord turned over, presenting his back. “You sound like a lunatic, Molly.”
“Says the guy with an eyeball in his magical destiny sword.”
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
Healed and rested, Caleb was like a different man. Jester had apparently attacked him with a brush, because his hair was combed behind his ears, and he was wearing a worn but freshly-washed brown tunic. It was a far cry from how they’d found him, half-naked and covered in blood. Amusingly, he was also wearing an expression of total, utter confusion as Jester led him to their breakfast table.
“Ta-da!” Jester said. “Doesn’t he look, like, a million times better?”
He did look a million times better, and Molly couldn’t help but feel a bit proprietary about it. Caleb took the open place beside Nott and they were treated to their first, fleeting glimpse of a rare sight indeed: an almost smile. “Nott.”
“Caleb, they have bacon,” Nott said eagerly, pushing her plate between them. Several strips of partially masticated meat were piled on it. “I saved you some.”
“Gross.” Beau assembled a much more palatable looking plate of bread, eggs, and unchewed bacon before shoving it in Caleb’s direction. “He doesn’t need to share your nasty leftovers.”
Nott hissed, but not in an unfriendly way. Caleb, for his part, was staring at Beau’s gruff offering. “Ah,” the man said quietly.
Molly took pity on him, leaning close enough to whisper, “Don’t worry. Beau’s bark is worse than her bite. Underneath that hard, outer shell...” He paused. “She’s secretly a husk without a soul.”
Beau kicked him under the table. “Shut up, asshole.”
“You first, darling,” he answered sweetly.
Caleb, meanwhile, had picked up a piece of bread, but made no move to eat it. He gazed instead at Molly as though he recognized him. “You’re Mollymauk,” he said.
Molly smiled, delighted that something of their first meeting had stuck. “That’s correct.”
“I must thank you. Much of yesterday is hazy, but I remember you. You were kind.” The way he said it, it seemed he wasn’t much used to kindness.
“These are nice people, Caleb,” Nott informed him. “They healed you, and they didn’t even ask for any money.”
“That is good,” he said, “because we have none.”
“It does sound as though you’ve been down on your luck,” Fjord said.
Caleb traced the grain of the wood with a finger. “You could say that, ja.”
“We’ve all been there,” Fjord said. “Well, most of us. I’m Fjord. This is Yasha. You’ve already met Jester, Molly, and Beau.”
“In a sense, though it is good to see you all while I am…well.”
“We’re glad to see you well, too,” Yasha said. “We were concerned about you.”
Caleb didn’t seem to know what to do with that information, or else he was just a man of few words. Yasha, a woman of very few words herself, accepted this with a nod and a small smile. It was gratifying to watch Caleb relax under her non-judgmental scrutiny. He nodded back in acknowledgement.
Fjord said, “Nott told us a little of your story. How you met, what you do. She says you study magic and are quite a powerful wizard.”
“She thinks too highly of me, but I do know a few tricks.” He raised his hand, the one which had been swollen and purple the day before, and snapped his fingers. A ginger cat appeared in the center of the table. It arched its back, yawned, and chirped at them. Then it hopped onto its master’s lap as Jester squealed.
“She’s adorable!”
“Frumpkin is male, actually,” Caleb said. “At first I imagined he was female because I named him after a childhood cat, but he is not really a cat. Well, he is a cat, but he is also my familiar, which makes him a fey, and somehow he keeps coming up –”
Molly laughed. “And here I thought you were shy, but clearly we just needed to get you onto the right subject.”
Caleb’s face flushed under his freckles, and he buried his hands in his cat’s fur. Both Frumpkin and Nott cast him irritated looks, but Molly just winked.
“I guess what we’re getting at, ah – Caleb,” Fjord fumbled. “Is, if you and Nott are so inclined, we’re heading north as a sort of adventuring party, earning a little coin along the way, and we wouldn’t mind having another couple of people.”
Nott blurted, “You want us to join your group?”
“I got blown up by a trapped door, like, yesterday,” Beau said. “It would have been nice to have someone catch that. You know, before the explosion.”
Yasha asked, “Is that something you can do, Nott?”
Nott fidgeted shyly with a piece of bacon. “I do have experience with that kind of thing. But I just got caught. Maybe I’m not so good at it.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Molly said. “And this is speaking as a person who regularly stabs themselves with their own swords.”
Caleb’s head jerked in his direction. “What?”
Molly wagged his hand. “It’s a…thing.”
“As for you, Caleb,” Fjord said, “I don’t think any of us would say no to a little more magic. Assuming you can do more than summon fluffy animals.”
“I can do…a little more.”
“So, what do you say?”
Caleb looked at Nott. She whispered, “You did say there was safety in numbers. Maybe it would be better if there were more of us, in case something bad happens again, and I can’t save you.”
“You have already saved me, my friend. Many times. But if you would like to expand our group, I am willing to give it a try.”
Nott gave them all a side-eye, as though they weren’t right there, well within hearing range. “Even though they’re weirdos?”
“Hey!” Beau said.
Something faint and smile-like passed over Caleb’s face once more. “Perhaps beggars cannot be choosers.”
“Hey,” said Molly.
Without another qualm, Nott turned to the rest of them. “Alright, we’ll come.” She extended her tiny hand, which Fjord shook gingerly.
“It’s settled then,” he said. “Welcome to The Lucky Bastards. That’s what we’ve been putting on the paperwork, anyway.”
Nott protested. “That’s a terrible name! If we’re going to start traveling together, I demand we come up with something better.”
Jester perked up. “I’ve been saying that forever. What do you think of The Steel Manticores. Oh! Or Malefactors, Inc.”
Beau groaned. “Look what you’ve done. I can practically feel the chaotic energy intensifying.”
“I’m not sorry,” Molly said, leaning back until his shoulder bumped Caleb’s. At first the man tensed, then slowly he began picking food off his plate while Nott lurched over the table to exchange horrifying team names with Jester. Beau was getting into it by way of commentary, and even Yasha had her ear cocked. Molly caught Fjord looking amused, though his expression transformed into one of dismay when Jester offered up a particularly…inappropriate suggestion.
Molly let the sounds wash over him. He’d done such a thing dozens of times in other taverns, but this was different. It felt right. He didn’t attempt to explain it. He couldn’t have if he tried. It was like a good card reading. It had a little destiny mixed in. And though he didn’t know exactly where it would lead them, he was more than happy to be along for the ride.